Fireworks Over Queens
by its-never-lupus
Summary: [sputchy]Rated for slash and light swearing. I'm not a huge Mets fan, but Kudos to them for giving me the inspiration for this one-shot. Plz read and review!


Hey people! I'm back with another really random one-shot, one of my fav pairings, let's give it up for SPUTCHY!! WOOT!!crickets chirp But anyways…the baseball game, date, times, teams, music, fireworks, everything actually happened, so I guess it could technically be called historical fiction…kinda, but not really. So, anyways, enjoy!

My name is Mark Anthony(Laugh and DIE!) 'Specs' David, and I officially have no life. I'm sitting here in Shea Stadium(On Fireworks Night, so I guess it's all good) with the love of my life, and I haven't exhaled for the past half-hour. I think I'm turning blue.

But anyways…

Mmmm…Tall, blonde, bright blue eyes, creamy white skin, and a beautiful body, almost fit for worship.

And his name is Dutchy. Sigh. Ain't it cute?

"Ya know, Specs, I swear you haven't moved for the past half-hour. Hello, Specs! Earth to Specs!"

Shit. He was on to my 'Let's-Make-Specs-Look-More-Buff' plan. I let out a woosh of air.

"Sorry. Air impurities, ya know."

"Uh-huh. Ya know, Specs, you're too self-conscious for your own good. All gay men are. It's a fault we have, as The Girls say: 'We're too feminine!'

For those of you who don't know, 'The Girls' are our friends Lindsey, who we call Linz, and Liz. They look quite similar: Same height, hair color within two shades of each other, big-boned and curvy, glasses, etc. I swear, from the back they look like sisters.

But this story is not about them, it's about me and Dutchy. Ooh, Specs and Dutchy, sittin' in a tree…you get the point.

"Yeah, you're right" I heard myself saying. "Next thing ya know, I'll start tweezing my eyebrows."

Dutchy gave a little fake shudder. "You'd need Paul Bunyan's tweezers" he teased, and I reached over to slug him.

"Ouch! Hey, Specs! Lay off!" he laughed, squirming away.

"Well, stop poking fun at my unibrow!" I laughed, giving him a couple more smacks, then finally stopping. "It's not even a unibrow, they're just a little…wild."

He laughed again. Gah, it was like the music of angels.

"Good eeeeevening, ladieeeeeeeees and gentlemeeen! And welcome tooooooooo Shea Stadium!" came the announcers voice over the loudspeaker. "Tonight! Your Amazin' Mets will be playing the Philadelphia Phillies! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the game!"

"That dude definitely has a flair for the dramatic" Dutchy muttered under his breath. Then he smiled.(Insert mucho drooling from yours truly here.) When he smiled, his whole face lit up, his smile stretched across his whole face, and his eyes crinkled up at the corners. (Insert drool like a river from yours truly HERE.)

"So Dutchy, how's life treatin' ya?" I asked, looking over at him.

"I broke up with Itey" he said quietly. "He was cheating on me with some male model."

"Ouch" I said softly. "I'm sorry, Dutchy. But you know what that corny Disney song says, 'Though your heart is full of sorrow, just hang on 'till tomorrow! The dreams that you wish will come true!'"

He gave me a look that said, 'You are an insane gay man. Thanks for being my friend.' So I reached over and gave him a hug.

"It's gonna be alright, it's gonna be alright!" I sang, and I felt a couple of teardrops on my shoulder.

"Aww, don't cry, Dutch" I said, squeezing him tighter.

"I can't help it, Specs!" he almost snapped at me. "I thought Itey was The One, ya know?"

_'Just like I think you're The One for me' _I thought. _'Correction: Like I know you're The One for me.'_

"Five to one Mets lose" I said aloud.

"No contest, there, Mets pretty much always lose."

"Eh, what're ya gonna do?" I asked lightly. At least they're consistent.

"Yeah. Hey, Specs?"

"Yeah, man?"

"Thanks for caring."

"No problemo" I said, and he smiled at me again, and reached over, and wrapped me in a hug.(Insert melting into a puddle of bliss from yours truly HERE.) The announcer went on to call out the starting line-ups of both the Mets and the Phillies, but neither of us was listening. We were too busy making out.

HA! I wish…

Actually, we were talking, discussing everything that'd been going on with us lately. I'd recently been accepted to the New York High School for the Performing Arts, which was held in high esteem by most aspiring theatre students(coughmecough). He'd been accepted to a technical school. 'cause he wanted to work for NASA when he left college. He'll make a great engineer, I think. Hell, he'd make a great French fry maker at McDonald's, for Pete's sake.

"Hey, doesn't Liz work here on weekends?" Dutchy asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Yeah! Let's go annoy her to death and order her around!" I said, grinning and jumping up. Liz works at one of the many concession stands around Shea Stadium, and whenever she's on duty, she acts more aggressive, and her Brooklyn accent gets a lot thicker, I've noticed. I think it's a scare tactic, but you never can tell with her. starts singing Straaaaaaange things are happenin' to me! stops

Ahem. Sorry.

So…anyways…we found her, and sure enough, she had an accent that would've made Gabriel Damon proud. He's an actor in this musical from about 12 years ago…never mind. And we gave her a hard time, joking, trying to make her laugh, 'till her boss got ticked, and made us leave. Now, I might add, we were the only two people in line. But we left, grumbling good-naturedly as we did so.

"Her boss reminds me of Attila the Hun" Dutchy laughed. "Only with estrogen." I laughed. He's weird like that, one of the many reasons I love him.

As if I really need a reason to love him. Shyeah!

"I think she was Attila the Hun's mom!" I laughed, snorting Diet Pepsi up my nose. We howled at that one.

"So, Specs. Ya stayin' for the fireworks?" he asked teasingly.

"Why the hell else would I be here when I could be doing something so much cooler?" I responded. "This is one of the few Mets games I'll attend all season, thank you very much. METS SUCK!" I yelled, as loud as I could.

"EH, SHADDUP!" two whole rows in front of me yelled, and I sat back down, slightly scared.

"That is something you never yell at a Mets game," Dutchy said, laughing his head off.

"Oh, I dunno, I think Mets fans are delusional. I mean, the last time they won the World Series, was, what? '86?" came a very familiar, if unexpected voice. A tan, muscular hand reached out and clamped itself around my upper arm.

Damn, he's strong for only being 5'6".

"Ow! Owowowowow! Cut it out, bitch!" I yelled, only half-jokingly.

"Can it, Specs! Unless you want him to hear you!" Bumlets hissed back.

"Who?…Dutchy?" Sometimes I'm a little slow.

"Yes, Dutchy! Usually you can here me sneaking up on you a mile away, and I was clomping towards you, and you didn't even twitch! What is up with you?! Just make a damn move, already!"

I gaped at him. "Is it that obvious?"

"Like bright blue hair!" he yelled, while still managing to whisper. Then he sighed, and pushed his thick black hair out of his eyes. "Look, Specs, I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just want you to be happy. And I've known Dutchy since 3rd grade, when we went around telling everyone we were twins. We finally realized we didn't even have the same hair color, so that sort of fell apart at the roots." He chuckled. "Anyways, just give it a try, will ya?"

"Sure. And then later on, I might become the President" I said sarcastically.

"Cool. My friend the President. Would I get to ride in the limo with ya?"

"Shut up." But we both started laughing from the stupidness of it all.

"OK, Specs? Just try it, aight? I gotta go, Izzy's waiting."

"Aight" I said, giving him a high-five.

"What'd he want?" asked Dutchy, looking up as I sat back down.

"Askin' about some plans we made for later in the week" I said off-handedly.

"So, Dutchy, were you here on Fireworks Night last year?" I asked.

"Yeah" he said. "I came with…"

"With Itey" I finished dully.

"Yeah."

"You're better without him, ya know?" I said 20 minutes later.

"Yeah, I know" he said, not looking at me. "But it still stings, ya know? But at least I know you'll never desert me, Specs. Right?"

"_Nunca_. Never" I said, squeezing his hand, and almost fainting with glee when he squeezed back. Also, I noticed, he didn't let go. GAH! Was this TOTALLY AWESOME, or what?!

Neither of us watched much of the game, we chatted right up until the 7th inning stretch, when we got up, took a pee, and got more food. The remaining two innings went by pretty quick, then we sat around for about 15 minutes, while they were setting up the fireworks. I learned that he liked to eat cheese frenchees with ranch dressing, something I thought only I liked.

Wild, huh?

Then the music and lights began. The Mets were celebrating 40 years, so the first song was from 1964. Dutchy actually knew the words, so he started singing along, and I clapped at the gorgeous fireworks. But I was also doing a lot of thinking(Fireworks shows are good for that.).

It was now, or never.

"Hey Dutch?" I said. "Do you ever wish on fireworks?"

"Yeah, sometimes. Why?"

"Make a wish, _compadre._ Come on, do it!" So we closed our eyes and wished.

"Whadjya wish for?" he asked.

"Haven't you heard, that if you tell someone what you wish for, it won't come true?" I laughed. "But I'll tell ya anyway. I wished for vindication."

"What the hell is that?"

"It's where you think you're right, but you don't find out until after the fact." And before he could say another word, I leaned over and kissed him.

Sweet but brief, soft but fiery…pick your pair of contrasting adjectives.

He opened his eyes and looked at me. "What the fuck?" he said quietly. "Why didn't you say something sooner, Specs?"

"The whole Itey thing" I said in a monotone. This was not going the way I'd planned. "You having a boyfriend made it kinda hard for me to say anything, ya know?"

"Sure, yeah, I get it" he said, looking me in the eyes. "Hey Specs?"

"Yeah?"

"Anything else you wanna get off your chest?"

_'This guy knows me too well'_ I thought.

"Yes, actually, there is" I said, looking back at him. "I've wanted to say it for a while, and now I can. Dutch…I love you."

He sat there for a long time, just listening and watching the fireworks. Then, without a word, he leaned in and kissed me, more intense, more fire, less sweetness.

"Is that your vindication, Specs?" he asked, panting.

"Not unless you say the words" I said, hiding a small smile. "But it's pretty damn close."

"Mark 'Specs' David" he said, squeezing my hand, and looking at me with those gorgeous green eyes, "I love you, _con todo mi espirito,_ with all my spirit, and I will forever. Always…always know that."

And as we leaned in for another explosive kiss, the last brilliant burst of fireworks exploded over Queens.

_"Vindicated, I am selfish, I am wrong!_

_I am right, I swear I'm right, swore I knew it all along,_

_And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well!_

_I am seeing in me now the things you swore you saw yourself."]_

Dashboard Confessional, "Vindicated"

END 

A/N: Dunno if that song excerpt fits, but I used the word 'vindication' in there, so I figured, what the hell? Hope y'all liked it, those were the actual teams playing on Fireworks Night, July 16th, 2004, at Shea Stadium in Queens, hence the title. Please leave a review, but no flames, _por favor_. Flames are like finding out the guy you have a crush on is gay, 'cause that would really SUCK. LOL, bye!!!


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